


Opening Negotiations

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Aquaman (2018), Batman - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Aquaman Played by Jason Momoa, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Female Bruce Wayne, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: "Black beskar. I dig it."He couldn't see the Batwoman's face, but her displeasure was clear in the Force. "I wasn't informed the Temple was sending three of you.""Don't worry, Mera's for Duchess Kryze's protection." He offered her a bright grin. "You just have to deal with me and Hal."The Batwoman turned away, walking towards a sleek black ship, expensive and customized enough to fly through a warzone."Mandalorians." Hal hissed the word like a curse, but followed her anyway.He shared a look with Mera, but she only shrugged and followed the black-clad stranger into the hold.
Relationships: Arthur Curry/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 30
Kudos: 87





	1. Opposites Attract

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDFO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDFO/gifts).



Arthur had been one of the largest kids in his year-sect. If it weren't for the two Wookies, he would have been the tallest. He was also supremely grateful not to be the only Atlantean there, so other people wouldn't look at him weird when he fell asleep at the bottom of the youngling exercise pool. 

But then, him and Mera were far from the strangest kids amongst the bunch.

There was Kal-El, from the planet Krypton that had been destroyed in the Old Republic, scattering her children and subsequently seeing their race fade out. Kal-El was a massive nerd who was crazy strong, but also incredibly clumsy. The amount of times he crushed a saber after almost dropping it was enough for the Temple to invest in an ultra-rare alloy for him to use. He was nice enough, though. 

There was Diana, who came from Themiscyra. Apparently it was an all-female humanoid planet of long-lived warriors. She was older than they were, but seeing her react to men was a pretty amusing spectacle. Her crush on one of the Temple pilots was less funny. 

Jon and Hal were from the same planet, some oddly-shaped ring world. They glowed green and had some extra powers outside the Force, but they fiercely disliked each other. 

Poor J'onn, a shapechanger from M'ars, was usually caught between them. He was too nice to tell them to pound salt. Shayera and her brother, on the other hand, were not. They were the only winged people Arthur had met as a child. 

There was also Barry, who spent most of his time either talking faster than anyone could listen or looking vaguely concerned a fight was going to break out. No one knew where he came from, least of all him. 

They were all weirdos that hung out together, as the more traditional Padawan candidates shunned them. Some others came around, like Depa, Quinlan and Kit, but they were weird in their own ways too. 

He mostly stuck with Mera, Diana and Kal-El. Those friendships continued into their Padawanhood, then into Knighthood. Occasionally, he's be paired off with others on missions. 

Like right now.

* * *

He didn't quite get why he, Mera and Hal had to be here to have Qui-Gon and Anakin report back on their mission to protect the Duchess of Mandalore. 

Mace and Yoda shared a look, and the other Council members seemed to have an understanding of the silent conversation after Master and Padawan bowed out of the chamber. 

"Come forward." Mace commanded. The three of them did so. "We're sending the three of you to Mandalore."

"Uh, why?" Hal asked. 

Mace frowned. "There's a new assignment, one that needs new faces."

"How long have Master Jinn and Ani actually been back for?" Mera asked. 

"Six months." Luminara answered, staring them down. "They've been negotiating between Duchess Kryze and a newcomer to the scene, trying to bring down the animosity on Mandalore. This newcomer, under the pseudonym Batwoman, is a traditional Mando looking to help reduce tensions and put a conclusive end to the civil war. She's offered to act as an intermediary, but the Duchess wants us to ensure her survival."

"So, bodyguard duty, then?" Hal asked. 

"Mera will take over as Kryze's personal bodyguard." Mace took over. "Arthur, Hal, you'll be with Batwoman and at her disposal. We're sending you in to secure peace, but you're not the diplomats here."

"Understood." Arthur replied. "When do we leave?"

"Immediately." Mace ordered. "Batwoman's ship is located on the outer docks of the Temple, all black. She'll be waiting for you."

"Got it."

"May the Force be with you."

"And you, Masters."

| | | 

As promised, there was a black ship on the lower docks. 

"Black beskar. I dig it."

He couldn't see the Batwoman's face, but her displeasure was clear in the Force. "I wasn't informed the Temple was sending three of you."

"Don't worry, Mera's for Duchess Kryze's protection." He offered her a bright grin. "You just have to deal with me and Hal."

The Batwoman turned away, walking towards a sleek black ship, expensive and customized enough to fly through a warzone. 

"Mandalorians." Hal hissed the word like a curse, but followed her anyway. 

He shared a look with Mera, but she only shrugged and followed the black-clad stranger into the hold.

| | | 

Batwoman was a hard read. 

She didn't speak much, if at all, and spent most of her time in the cockpit. 

"I don't even know why we're helping the Mandalorians." Hal complained bitterly. "If they want to fight it out amongst themselves, I say we let them."

"That's uncharitable." Mera chastised. "There's a lot of redeeming qualities about Mandos, even if you find the violence they participate in to be distasteful."

"Like?"

"They run orphanages and adopt children." Mera replied. "They're fiercely loyal, admirably traditional, respectful, monogamous if you like that. They don't even discriminate what children they adopt - they're quite comfortable adopting all species. Even if the child doesn't want to be Mando'ade, they help find them homes. They have a great emphasis on honour, and acting honorably."

Hal snorted. "So? Jedi do the same thing."

"On a larger scale, perhaps, but only for Force-sensitive children." Mera argued. 

"Does that matter? They're not special."

"We're good at being quiet."

Hal nearly jumped out of his skin, flaring green. The light caught the only reflective material of her outfit, the T of her helmet. She turned away dismissively, disappearing into the galley. 

"You entirely deserved that." Arthur sat back, legs splayed out in front of him. "If she airlocks you in your sleep, I wouldn't blame her."

"Asshole." Hal muttered, gingerly sitting back down.

| | | 

He gingerly knocked on the cockpit door. "Care for some company?"

The door opened by way of an answer, and he let himself in. She was at the console, a stack of datapads at her side. She had a panel pulled apart, messing with the internal wiring as an astromech beeped and whirred at her.

"What are you up to?"

"Improving the monitoring system." She replied, pulling back and replacing the panel. "Ace, system check."

The astromech, Ace apparently, beeped an affirmative.

She screwed the panel back in place, sitting down and picking up a pad. He sat down next to her in the co-pilot's chair, leaning back and observing her. 

She scrolled, non-plussed, as she read through whatever report was in front of her. 

"What's your name?"

"Bryce."

He blinked. "You'd tell me, just like that?"

She slowly turned to stare him down. "It's rude not to answer questions."

He broke out in a grin. "Cool. I'm Arthur."

She nodded. 

"Do you have any family, Bryce?"

"I do. A father, five sons and three daughters."

"Oh wow. Are they adopted or did they all come out of you?"

"Damian was my own pregnancy, the others were orphans. Damian's also the youngest."

"Right on. Got a favourite colour?"

"Gold. Yourself?"

He laid back, still grinning. "Charcoal grey. Favourite animal?"

"The jaig."

"Mine's the Tellur snake."

"Aren't they pets usually worn as necklaces?"

"Yeah, but their underbellies are soft and their scales are so shiny."

"Dick likes the black and blue ones. He's got a runt he wears as a bracelet."

"Aww man, they're so rare. Please tell me we get to meet your kids, I wanna see his snakes."

The tension in the air fell some. "I have to drop Mera off at the capital, but yes, we're going back to my village." She paused. "Dick will enjoy showing them to you. His siblings don't like snakes."

"Their loss. Snakes are awesome." He hummed. "What's the name of the ship?"

"The _Dark Knight_. Steph calls it the Batplane."

He snorted. "I'm definitely calling it that. Custom job?"

"Commissioned an old friend, Lucius, to make it. I've also got an all-terrain wheeler, speeder and water skipper."

He chuckled. "And what does Steph call those?"

"Batmobile, Batcycle and Batboat."

He broke out in laughter. "That's awesome. I love it."

"I'm sure she'll find you hilarious too." Bryce hummed. 

"What's your favourite weapon?"

"Lethal or non-lethal?"

"You use non-lethal stuff?"

"When I can get away with it." Her fingers tightened on the pad, though it was very slight. "If you grow up in the midst of a civil war, you tend to prefer methods that don't result in death if you can help it."

"I guess you would." He glanced at her again. "How about both?"

"For lethal, I'd have to say a solid beskad. For non-lethal, a bes'bev."

"Bes'bev? Never heard of it."

"A flute with a cut-off end. It's usually reed reinforced with beskar on the mouthpiece, holes and end. Gives it a trilling note the higher it goes."

"That sounds badass." He grinned. "Do you have one?"

"One of my sons has it currently. I think it's Tim, but I could be mistaken."

"How old are you really?"

"Twenty-five."

He sat up. "That's it?"

"Life is hard and short. What were you expecting?"

"I dunno. With a reputation like yours, at least thirty-five?"

"I've been working since I was ten."

"That would do it too, I suppose." He cocked his head. "You're really young to have all these kids, then."

"Why do you think only one of them is mine?"

"How old is he?"

"Two years. My father says he looks just like I did when I was a babe."

"Were you adopted?"

"Yes. Alfred knew my biological parents, but they were wiped out at the beginning of the hostilities."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't kill them." She flipped another switch. "Your own?"

"Mom was an Atlantean noblewoman who gave me up when I started to float stuff." He shrugged. "She sends me gifts on my birthday."

Bryce adjusted a lever. "What was her best gift?"

"Atlanteans have a symbolic 'coming of age' thing, but since she's not really allowed contact with me, she just sent me the gift with a copy of the text they would normally usher me in with and a handwritten note. It's a beautiful trident with three spikes to represent the three seas of Atlantis - Mediterranean, Aegean and Ionian."

She nodded. "I know that custom. Alfred knew a Fett who served there."

"Really?" He twisted to give her more full attention. "I don't know a whole lot about them. The Temple tries to keep us isolated from culture immersion so we can help unbiased."

"Not unwise." She adjusted herself to face him more fully too, the stars rushing past illuminating the nearly hidden rise insignia across her chest - a Concord Dawn hellbat with its wings outstretched. "Alfred's friend, Thomas Curry, picked up a job on Atlantis to protect Crown Princess Atlanna Oceanus. According to him, the two of them were swift to fall in love, and she married him despite the protests of her parents and court. He died roughly four years later, and Atlanna took the throne alone. Alfred seemed to believe that the Fetts were convinced she was pregnant, but she never had a child to speak of. Likely, Thomas' brother Jango would have tried to take it, to teach it Mandalorian ways."

His world just shattered. "Curry?"

She nodded slowly. "That is what I said."

He swallowed thickly, thinking of the note that came with the trident that had made no sense at the time, and the name signed at the bottom. "How could he be a Fett if his last name was Curry?"

"Jango's father died when he was young and his mother remarried, having Thomas a few years later. His father was Declan Curry. She remained the Fett matriarch until Jango took over as Manda'lor."

He collapsed back into the chair, thoughts spinning. 

"Do you know these names?"

"Are you related to the Fetts?"

"The Wayne clan is sworn to the Fetts, yes." She cocked her head. "Answer my question."

"Yeah, I know them." His chest felt tight. 

He could feel her eyes narrowing, waiting for him to elaborate. He felt a hysterical laugh start to rise from him. 

"So, I'm thinking that Atlanna did have a kid with Thomas." He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos that extended up his arms and across his chest and back. Sitting innocuous and incriminating on his forearms, sitting amongst the rows of triangles at his wrists, were small skulls, long with curled horns. 

Bryce swivelled to face him, taking his arms and gently pulling him towards her. He sat forward, following her. She unclasped her bracers, undoing thick dark brown leather cuffs decorated in beads and tassels. She slid them off, then deftly fastened them around his wrists, covering the symbol etched into his skin. 

"Atlanteans mark their skin to demonstrate their years, their family and their accomplishments." She said softly. "But being Mandalorian is a choice, not a bloodline. It is in you, and on your skin, but the choice is and always will be yours."

His throat closed and it took a solid five minutes of the warm firmness of her hands to ground him. She waited patiently for him. "And the cuffs?"

"Sleeves ride up, and that symbol means a lot on Mandalore." She gently rolled his sleeves back down, gloved fingertips skating down the tendons of his hands, featherlight and tender. "The starting path of your life was chosen for you. This will not be."

"Do these mean something to you?"

"I made them when the bracers were too big for my arms." She said, pulling back and re-fastening her gear, concealing the soft black silk underneath the tough leather and wool of her outer layers. "I continued to wear them from force of habit. You can keep them."

"Thanks." He pulled his arms back to himself, the leather soft, worn and warm. He could smell some form of rich, spicy cologne ingrained deep in it. Maybe it was just how she smelt underneath her armour. "I appreciate it."

She swivelled back to her console, giving him time to collect himself. "Just don't let Hal think I'm a nice person and we'll call it even."

He laughed and leaned back. "Deal."


	2. Black Mandalorians

Hal was too busy pouting at Bryce dismissing him over the course of their travels to Mandalore to notice the new leather cuffs peeking out from under his robes. Mera was not so oblivious, and her pointed gaze made him feel naked in a manner that didn't usually bother him. 

"They're hers." Mera stated, no room for argument. 

"Yup." He didn't bother to deny it. 

"Should I ask?"

"She's nicer than you think."

"I'm sure." She gave him another searching look, and he did his best not to wilt under it. "Be careful. You're a Jedi."

"Duh."

She laid her hand on his thigh. "I know you. You've got to keep distance from this. It's not personal."

"Obviously."

The _Dark Knight_ 's gangway dropped down behind them and Bryce materialized from the darkness of the cockpit. "Follow me, Mera."

Mera stood with her, exiting the ship. They were on the palace's landing pad, and the Duchess herself was approaching, her entourage surrounding her. 

"Batwoman." Duchess Kryze greeted, warmer than Mera expected. 

"Duchess." Batwoman replied, including her head. "This is Jedi Knight Mera Thetis. She will be your bodyguard until the hostilities are settled."

The Duchess sighed. "This is what I wanted to avoid sending Jinn and Skywalker back."

"Yes, well, this was my executive decision, not yours." Batwoman replied. "Until your government is cemented, your safety needs to be guaranteed, not assumed."

"I don't want this."

"This is a stipulation of my help." Batwoman's tone was colder. "You won't bully me into changing my tune just because you think you'll have a new ally."

The Duchess shook her head in exasperation. "Yes, of course. How foolish of me to think so."

"I'm glad we agree." She turned away. "Mera will ensure your safety, and I will hunt down the rest of the assassins."

"Good luck, Mandalorian." The Duchess offered a sad smile. 

Batwoman turned away without another word. Mera watched her go, her concern for Arthur mounting. This kind of unspoken and unrewarded perseverance would speak directly to her friend's heart, and she worried about the effects their likely months-long mission will be on him. She feared for if he fell for her and she loved him too, and equally for if she did not. 

But Arthur was beyond her control and influence. Even if she wanted to stay beside him and help guide him, she didn't trust the Duchess to Hal. This was how it was supposed to be, she supposed, so she had to trust in his internal strength. 

The _Dark Knight's_ gangway closed and the engines fired up, leaving her behind and spiriting Arthur away. 

She turned to the Duchess. "I would like to sit with you and your security team and more fully discuss your schedules, palace layouts and concerns. I would like to afford you the most privacy and respect I can while keeping your person intact."

The Duchess blinked in surprise. "Yes, of course. Follow me."

* * *

With Mera gone, Arthur let himself into the cockpit, watching the cityscape of Mandalore get overtaken by lush greenery and thick canopied forests. 

"It's beautiful." He murmured. 

"It is." Bryce affirmed. "My village is underneath the canopy. The landing area is a little ways away."

"Prevent a direct attack."

"Yes."

"Smart." Unconsciously, he played with the straps of the cuffs. "Does it have a name?"

"Gotham."

"A little dour."

"It's partly in a cave system." She returned, running through the landing sequence. 

She was a very efficient pilot, and it wasn't much longer before she shut the ship off, gathering her weapons and personal equipment. 

"So, we're here?" Hal griped when they entered the main bay. 

She didn't deign to answer him, just opened the hatch and walked down it. Arthur offered Hal a smile and followed her down, despite the Lantern's annoyed grimace. She tapped a button on her gauntlet after they exited and the ship closed up, heavy locks audibly sliding into place. 

The path to Gotham was well-worn and wound through the trees efficiently. The trees were too dense for speeders of any kind, but the walk was also somewhat brief, if refreshing after a couple days in hyperspace. 

The village was a lively little community, and everyone seemed to recognize her. 

"Bats!" A pale, unhelmeted blonde in red and black ran at her with a smile. "Good to have you back!"

"Good to see you too, Harley." Bryce replied, accepting her hug. 

Harley's eyes landed on them. "Gross. Jedi."

"Hal and Arthur." Bryce introduced. "And they're with me. Be nice."

"Oh." Harley's expression immediately softened. "Of course. I'll be good."

"Thank you. Anything happen while I was gone?"

"Nah. Nightwing scares them off pretty regular, not to mention Red and Red and Red."

"Good. Tell the villagers not to bother the Jedi for me."

"Can do, B." Harley gave a mocking salute, then skipped off to do as she was told. 

"Where do you know her from?" He asked, stepping close so he could keep his voice down. 

"Harleen had an abusive husband on Altand. Her best friend was concerned and hired me to kill him. Harley and Pamela got married last year."

"Who was her husband, the Joker?" Hal joked. 

"Yes." Bryce began walking again. 

"Wait, I was joking."

"I'm aware." She said, cape flickering around her. "I was not."

Arthur whistled. "Nice. He was an asshole."

"That was my first and last encounter with him." She replied. "So I couldn't say."

As promised, a good portion of Gotham was, indeed, underground. Near the back of the underground chasm was what looked like a mansion, chiseled from the glassy volcanic rock. 

"Who lives there?" Hal snorted, pointing. "The Chancellor?"

"I do." She answered, leading them through the winding streets. 

"You've gotta stop talking, man." Arthur murmured. 

"Shut up, fishboy." Hal snapped. 

She paid them no mind as she walked them through the winding tunnels and tight streets, all illuminated with glowing rocks and bioluminescent mosses and lichens. 

The structure at the back of the cave was even bigger up front, much more impressive. 

"Buir!"

She stopped and crouched, several kids in small helmets and visors rushing out from behind the gates to smother her in hugs and headbutts. 

"Hello, my little ones." She cooed, petting over their helmets. "Have you been good for your grandfather?"

"We have." They replied, giggling amongst themselves. 

"Good. Now come, let us go inside. I have guests."

The inside of the estate was actually quite warm and homey, with children's toys scattered about and burgundy furniture that made the lofty ceilings less austere. 

"I like your place." He said, spinning around to get a good look at the pale white moss that illuminated the roof and some low-hanging stalactites. 

"Really?" She hummed. "I find it a little dour sometimes, myself."

"Nah, I like the lived-in feel of it."

"Pfft, you would." Hal grumbled. "A preoccupation with material wealth is just obnoxious."

"So this must do something, then?" She held up her hand and Hal's ring was between her thumb and index finger. "I assume it works off concentration, since there are no buttons or access ports."

"Wha- How did you do that?"

Her smirk was audible. "You weren't concentrating."

Hal called it back to himself, his normal green aura lighting up. "You won't do that again!"

"Unless I want to." 

"Alright, let's rumble, Bats-"

He didn't have a chance to throw a punch before Bryce swung around, taking him out at the knees. He landed hard, and she was looming over him in an instant, pistol pressed to his forehead. 

"It's impolite to threaten your host." She said, but any sarcasm or hint of joviality was wiped clean from her voice. 

The angry fluttering green simmered down to its normal slim margins, though Hal still looked more than a little disgruntled. "You're fast."

"You're an idiot." She turned, sheathing her blaster. 

He shook his head, stepping over the other Jedi to follow her up the stairs. 

| | | 

Wayne Manor, as she informed them it was called, housed all of the Wayne clan, including their spouses, the majority of whom were not Mandalorian. To his surprise, her children all had monikers as well. 

"It keeps them from knowing we're all family." She explained. 

Her eldest was a seventeen year old named Dick Grayson, nicknamed Nightwing. He also wore black armour, but he had blue patterns across his sightline, chest and down his arms. He was charming and chipper, his to-be-wife Koriander just as lively, if a little weird. They made an odd pair, her being taller than him and orange. 

Following him was Barbara, who was three months Dick's junior. She looked like their armourer, since she was bound to a hover chair. She wielded the hammer and forge like an armourer - their Oracle. Her girlfriend, Kate Kain, was the Batgirl to follow Bryce's Batwoman, and had been considering joining the clan before she met Barbara. Turns out she needn't have bothered - everyone, including Bryce, considered her a daughter by proxy anyway. 

Next was the fifteen year old Jason Todd, who's helmet was red, along with the insignia on his chest. He also wore leather over his armour, multiple harnesses for weapons crossing his back and thighs. His lover was another Mandalorian named Roy Harper, who dressed predominantly in red with black accents. He seemed the sarcastic sort, which meshed well with Jason's apparent hobby of being irritating. They called themselves Red Hood and Red Arrow respectively, like it was some kind of inside joke. 

At fourteen, it felt a little odd to consider Tim Drake - Red Robin - an adult. But he didn't act like any youngling they'd ever met in the Temple. His companion, Kon-El (who'd have thought they'd been Kal's nephew out here?), was much more relaxed and childish, bringing out the soft, teasing side of Tim when they were at home. They both commonly wore a majority black, with red accents. 

Stephanie Brown, commonly called Spoiler, was exactly as chaotic and unfettered as Bryce had led him to believe, and she wore a deep purple just to be contrary. Her agemate, twelve-year-old Duke Thomas, was very much the opposite, being cautious and reserved despite being called Signal and his armour being painted bright yellow. 

Damian Wayne was barely two years old, too small yet for his own armour. He was the only thing that gave him any indication of what Bryce might look like, since her father, Alfred Pennyworth, commented regularly on how much mother and son resembled each other. Damian had taken one look at Hal, wrinkled his little nose with the utmost disgust, and run directly into Bryce's leg, clinging to her shin. 

That evening, after most of the household had retired, he sat down on the couch next to Bryce. She was dressed down, in comfortable cotton pants and a sleek satin shirt with her helmet. 

"You have a good home." He told her, taking in the way the firelight played off her black-clad form. 

"Thank you." She said softly, as if not to break the delicate peace. "It has served my family well."

"If you don't me asking, how are you a Wayne clan if Pennyworth is your father?"

She sunk back into the cushion, her aura growing colder. The memory obviously wasn't a good one, and the Force reflected that. 

"You don't have to answer." He was quick to say. "It's none of my business. I'm just stupid and curious."

"My mother and father accepted him into the clan before I was born. Unassociated Mandos are unusual, even if we tend to be seen as solitary creatures by the galaxy." She took a breath. "When my parents were taken by the civil war, he stepped up and took me on. I call him my father because he raised me, saw me to my maturity. We remain Waynes because he was one long before me."

"I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." He laid his hand on her thigh, not thinking about how inappropriate the gesture might seen until she stiffened and stilled under his hand. "Oh shit, sorry-"

She laid her hand delicately over his as he went to pull away. He held stock-still, like she was a frightened deer. "The last person to touch me that was not one of mine was Damian's father."

"I shouldn't have. I have no room to assume."

Her fingertips skated over the veins on the back of his hands. "I'm not opposed, merely surprised. I've been told I am a cold touch."

He snorted. "You? Cold? Nah. If you were, I wouldn't be wearing your cuffs."

Her helmet tilted down, gazing at their hands like a physical touch. 

"I just- Losing anyone isn't easy." He swallowed thickly. "I forget people aren't as tactile as I am, especially when I want to comfort them."

She didn't reply, only continued to trace the lines of his fingers with her own, the leather catching on the lightsaber and trident calluses. 

"We're you married to Damian's father?"

"No. He was a dalliance. An unadvisable one." She scoffed. "But I'm full of bad decisions."

He twitched, his entire body itching to wrap her up and make her feel better. "I think the quality of your family says differently."

She stilled, then wrapped his palm in a firm grip. "I appreciate you saying that. It's not . . . often that outsiders can understand our mentality."

"Love isn't that complicated." He offered a smile, even if he wasn't sure she saw it. "Jedi are all orphans grown together into one big family."

She chuckled. "Comparing the Jedi and the Mandalorians. Knight Jordan would resent that, I imagine."

"Probably. But I'm not really concerned with Hal. I like Jon more anyway."

Her touch was light and soft again. 

"I'd like to get to know you better." He added, flexing his fingers into the meat of her thigh. "We're going to be working together for the foreseeable future - I'd like to at least make a friend out of you and your kids."

"So would I." She admitted, though it sounded pained.

"We should get some rest, don't you think?"

"Yes, of course."

* * *

The second day on Mandalore saw the two Jedi led back to the surface by Bryce, the day dark and overcast. 

"Aww, man." Hal complained. "We're going to get rained on."

Bryce paid him no mind, taking a sharp turn into the dense underbrush. 

"What's our objective?" He asked, aware of how the charcoal greys and warm brown leathers of his robes did little to blend him into the forest. Bryce, despite her depthless black ensemble, vanished into the shadows and underbrush like a ghost. 

"Revolutionary cells still haunt little networks in the rural locales." She replied. "Our mission is to eradicate them."

"Does the Duchess approve of this plan?" Hal interjected. 

"It's not the Duchess' call. She wants her government to bring peace, this is how we do it." 

"Kind of undermines the whole 'pacifist' thing she's got going on." Hal muttered. 

"I'm not part of her government." She returned. "All Satine has to do is not interfere."

"Sounds like some pretty thankless gruntwork." He cut in, glaring Hal down over his shoulder. 

"The trade off is that Gotham remains the only village left to operate by traditional rules. We're allowed weapons, legally binding customs and our lands." Bryce made another sharp turn, the Jedi almost losing her in the thickets. 

"What happens to the others?"

"There are no others. There are the traditionalists and their revolutionary guard or Satine's backers. Other Mando'ade are already off-world or slaughtered in the hostilities." She scanned the tree line before moving forward. "Mine are all that's left. And all we want is our little cave, with our way of life."

"The villagers are behind this too?" Hal asked. 

"Without my protection, they would be dead." She replied curtly. "The broad politics don't matter to them."

"Why not?" Hal scoffed. "They should consider what's best for their planet as a whole."

"They live in a cave, protected by the Waynes and the Fetts since the village's founding. The planet doesn't care about them, so they don't care about the planet. It's that simple, Master Jedi."

She crested a ridge neither Jedi even knew they were on, pointing down to a base made out of a crevasse. 

"Strategy?" He asked. 

"You will be my distractions." She informed them. "You draw their attention to the main doors, deflect as much fire as you can, push forward as much as you're able. I'll steal all their information, then pick them off from behind."

"Sounds simple enough." He pulled the 'saber from his belt, rolling his shoulders. "Comm us when you're done. May the Force be with you."

She nodded. "Ka'ra guide your steps."

He grabbed Hal by the back of the neck. 

"Hey, buddy, just a second-"

"In it together, right Jordan?" He smirked and pushed the Lantern off the ridge. He threw a wink in her direction, then jumped off the ridge himself. 


End file.
